


Anthea

by dawnlight



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Eggsy is Anthea, F/M, Female!Eggsy, Harry is hopelessly in love, Not Beta Read, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnlight/pseuds/dawnlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>17 y.o Eggsy beat a stranger in chess match and offered a job opportunity</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eggsy loved the feeling when her palm traced around the door knob before she cracked it opened, presented her with the grace of space; of how light and shade played important part to give the room distinctive vibe, each day, and how every crook, crack and corner told her history about the place.

It might sound vague, for an ordinary girl to get fascinated in the interior elements despite she was blind and deaf for describing its techniques and designs. But she enjoyed it, the thumps and bumps of joy every time she stepped into a room and swept a gaze to define the function.

People didn’t understand that.

Most people glanced only at her physical appearance and ignored her appreciation towards details because she was one of those girl you calls ‘real-life Barbie.’ Eggsy mother, Michele, used to be popular girl at high school then Dad came into the picture and knocked Mum into pregnant teen. Well, they made it through the first five years, up until Dad returned home from Marine in the form of a stupid useless medal.

Mum as a broken heart young mother, started to plant this idea into Eggsy that love was a nuisance and men were bastards – _except Dean_ , Mum said, _Dean is ace_. But of course Eggsy was better than believing in her, or trusting Dean. Despite she grew up into – sea green orbs, gold blond hair- _Barbie doll_ , she saw the world with more rationality than feelings. Instead focusing on how she never found true love, Eggsy used her time to memorized places and city maps. Rather than crushing over idol’s bicep and sweat, she read about random knowledge around everyday issues.

 

“Can I help you, Miss?”

 

A soft, gentleman voice startled her. She blinked and realized she was standing at the door of this tailor shop, ‘Kingsman’, suddenly felt sheepish to get dumbfounded over the classy interior, dominated in dark wood from the floor to ceiling, painted green as the highlight color at the paneled walls and window frames.

She walked swiftly in her cobalt blue Versace blouse and knee-length pencil skirt, approaching the counter while half-concerning with her sharp heels scraping the expensive hardwood flooring. But it was one of those unnecessary fears she snorted and ignored with since apparently Eggsy had the creepiest brain for seventeen years old.

 

Eggsy placed her dad’s medal on the counter. “Do you know where I can find the man who gave me this?”

For a moment, the shop-attendant stared down at the medal with flat gaze before smiling formally at her, “I apologize-…”

“Oxford, not brogue.” She cut in, staring at him with determination. “Does it mean anything to you?”

The guy looked stricken, maybe a bit pale before he smiled again and asked her to sit on any couch as he called in for assistance. Eggsy started to think she might be coming to the right place. She halted him with a soft murmur, “If the man is really here or you know him, please return this to him.” Eggsy said, before she nodded in silent farewell and turned her back to leave the shop.

“But Miss, I don’t know your name.” the shop-attendant called for her but she pretended not hearing as she exited the door. Just as she strolled a few block from the shop, a car pulled over next to the sidewalk.

 

“Anthea.” The man sitting at the back seat called her, or what name he preferred to call her. She greeted him with a sweet smile as she turned into ‘Anthea’ mode –the secretary of the most influenced man behind English Government- and entered the car.

“Have you finished your personal matter?”

“Yes, Sir.” She turned on her phone and groaned under her breath at the annoying sound of notification emails. She desperately needed to chew on something and her bubblegum is left at the office, “may I ask again why it’s important to return the medal, Sir?”

“Obviously, you don’t need it.” Mycroft Holmes shrugged in his carefree and ignorant nature, “And you’ve better not getting along with these people, considering they’re an independent organization for profit and not serve their loyalty _only_ to the Crown. Honestly, Anthea, even a cat can understand that.”

“Sorry if I’m not bloody genius like you.” She muttered under her breath, eyes still fixed on her phone, “Sir.”

She can feel irritation from Mycroft gaze on her but the man did nothing aside sneering and then dropped the topic. It was one of miracle, anyway, to have a boss as snarky as Mycroft but also very creepily calm and composed in almost all situation. At the first time they meet around six months ago, Eggsy was strolling at Hyde Park when she saw Mycroft played the most miserable chess game against himself. She watched him for a while before rudely butted in with ‘check-mate’ and surprisingly it led to two more rounds (in which she won) before the man offered her a job opportunity. She was thinking about sugar daddy but then Mycroft explained that he sat glumly at the park because his ‘Anthea’ became a bad girl and sadly he has to ‘finish’ her and now it left him with no secretary.

It took a month for Eggsy to understand what was implied on being _bad girl_ and _finished_ the previous Anthea. She wouldn’t lie the information gave her stupid nightmare until this very day. Eggsy thought assassination was the worst punishment one could get from tipping out national secrets, but no, the previous Anthea was very much alive -and brainwashed. _She_ ’s now living at an asylum, reflecting on mistakes _she_ can’t even remember, for the rest of _her_ life.

“Move the meeting schedule with MP to 2.pm.” Mycroft ordered as soon as they arrived at the office. Eggsy nodded in affirmative, slight annoyed to get distracted from taking a moment exchanging silent greet to their office building. It’s calming, the way she enjoyed walking in through the hallway, following her boss rants to their floor. It’s comforting to breathe in the rich scent of wood and stone, warm and chilling her at all once. She whispered her thought at the elegant shaped paneled wall, at the heavily ornamented painting’s frame, at the potted plants around the corner, not because she’s crazy to believe space was just like another living being in different form, but because she was the happiest when she was surrounded by them.

“Eh?” She stopped abruptly when they reached her desk. “Someone is here.”

Mycroft who was about to enter the double door to his office paused and turned at her with suspicious look but apparently got her easy with a tease. “Great, now _we_ possessed supernatural power.”

“Not supernatural.” She sniffled, “I smelled it. Someone who has no clearance to be in this hall has been hiding behind my desk.” She pointed and as if on cue, they heard bumping sound and then low curse, “besides, you can see the legs.”

 

She glanced at Mycroft, asking permission to text security but the man made sign to just dismiss this all in while approaching her desk with a sigh, “come out, Sherlock.”

A young man in late twenty emerged and immediately narrowed his gaze at her, “You are not Anthea.” A surprised look, followed by curiosity, “sharp senses, I see. Young, too young in fact –what a predator you are, Mycroft- perceptive and observant –I see it now why you recruit her, but don’t you think this is a bit scandalous?- I don’t trust pretty blond ever had brain before –but she’s an exception, right? Wait, I’m always right-…”

Eggsy blinked.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft called in low warning tone.

Sherlock ignored Mycroft and approached her with a humble smile but cold, calculating gaze, “I’ve heard you defeat my brother in chess.” And so Eggsy wondered why she didn’t see this fact sooner, like how they shared the same grey eyes or prickly attitude. “Just so you know, that’s his only weakness.”

Eggsy cleared her throat. This man challenged her. She decided to give him a bored look and walked at her desk, popping in a bubblegum into her mouth. One who had brain like her in which continuously whirring and popping ideas would _constantly_ needed to chew on something -as distraction- to keep her sanity intact.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft called again and now the younger Holmes averted his attention to the older and sulkily followed Mycroft into the office.

Eggsy paused from texting and replying to the emails for her boss, for a moment she swept her gaze through the lone hall. She sighed in relief. At least the balance in space returned, and the air didn’t scream out in distress over stranger presence anymore. She definitely couldn’t explain what triggered her hypersensitive senses. Maybe it was the years back when she learned –in the hardest way- that there’s no use to watch and speak when it’ll get her backfired with flaming fists and slaps. Living with Dean taught Eggsy to sharpen her hearing and scenting while killing her emotion because so far, there are only pain and humiliation for her to feel.

 

 _Maybe_ she’s just another definition of freak.

 

“See you at Monday, Sir.” Eggsy’s shift ended at 7pm, from Monday to Friday. It’s a very domestic job for her, since she shared it with Jamie –sort of a butler- who took care of Mycroft’s schedule during the rest of night and weekend. She changed her fancy clothes in the employee rest room into worn out shirt, cardigan and skinny jeans, not forgetting her cheap sneaker and a cap. Holding the bundle of her used work clothes, she delivered it straight to dry cleaning. It was safer for her to dress in casual attires since she’s _still_ too young to have her own place. Eggsy stuck with Mom and Dean for now -who happened to live in the neighborhood with highest criminal rate- and that wasn’t the best idea to saunter home in her branded clothes, might as well calling in all mugger and perverts to take her on the street.

 

She stopped by an Italian restaurant and paused because suddenly Eggsy craved for Carbonara. The blond already walked in when she realized how under dressed she was. The reception guy apparently thinking the same since he approached her with a cringed smile, “may I help you?”

A little pride in her snarled at such rudeness but Eggsy gritted her teeth to calm it down. It’s her fault after all, to come here ignoring the dress code of first class restaurant. However, she really loved the food here and so she decided to smile charmingly, “I’m sorry for my state of dress but can I get table for one?”

She was glad –smug even- to see the man stunned at the contrast of her appearance to her posh accent. “I… I don’t think… Please wait for a minute, Miss…” and he scurried away, probably finding his manager or sort. Eggsy sat at a bench and waited despite her can just give up and go home, probably ordering less-fancy Carbonara and saved her from causing trouble to the whole restaurant.

Yet a part of her was so stubborn that she opened her cap, combed her long wavy blond hair to a side and lifted her chin, staring at the mirror across her seat.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” The reception –nametag said ‘Emmet’- was back, but she afraid it was because the man saw another customer _in_ blue pinstriped bespoke suit walked into the entrance hall. “I’m afraid we’re full tonight. All tables had been reserved.” And to make his point, Emmet greeted new customer without waiting for her reply. It really awful to stand here; rejected and then ignored.

There’s no other way. She thought, fishing into her wallet to pull out her employee card. Becoming Mycroft secretary gave her perks in security clearance _nearing the_ level of her boss's and her card apparently can be used as global-scale pass into any luxury club, restaurants, hotels, and many more of first-class amenities.

“The usual seat, Mr.Hart?”

“Ah,” Mr.Hart glanced at Eggsy and she returned him a skeptic look, but there’s a small smile on him in which looked familiar and if not, endearing. “If you don’t mind, Miss, would you like to share table with me?” She knew the offer drained blood from Emmet, before shame and bewilderment showing up on _his_ sorry face.

Eggsy held an urge to laugh maniacally.

“No, thank you.” She smiled sweetly, “Emmet is right, Sir. I’m not in my best clothes and he saves me from embarrassing myself.” to the kind gentleman she said it humbly, all in while watching shocked expression of the reception guy. “I’d better go.”

Eggsy was sure she’ll crave for Carbonara all night but there’s always tomorrow lunch time and the day-shift reception –Cecilia- knew Eggsy was a regular here. Said nothing more, Eggsy excused herself while putting on her cap and pushed out the door. She could hear the disappointed whine from the swinging door, as if the building sounding out their protest for her leave.

Ah, her mind tried to be ridiculous again.

 

“Wait.”

 

She found Mr.Hart followed shortly behind her step. “Yes?” She turned and asked politely.

“That is unfair.” The man said, straight to the point.

“That’s the manner.” She answered softly and couldn’t help but snickered at the way Mr.Hart stiffened, like he was just getting slapped right on the face. Eggsy wondered if she touched a sensitive topic. “But thank you for trying to help, Sir, though I’m not some damsel in distress.” Well, she’s in distress over Carbonara, but of course Eggsy wouldn’t admit it out loud.

Silence passed for a moment or two, with the man keep staring and Eggsy imagined conflicted thought run in Mr.Hart mind, either to call off this conversation and walked away or tried to lure some more words out of her or better, asked her for dinner in which about to be skipped if they didn’t cease this staring contest.

 

“If there’s anything else-…”

“I know an Italian cafe, if you don’t mind to have dinner with a starving oldman. You don’t have to be buggered with manner in there.”

Eggsy forced herself not to grin or be happy in general. She was rarely happy for another human being, but this man gave so much effort to leave impression on her so she made an exception. “And why I don’t have to worry, Sir?” she asked, low and husky.

“I’m the co-owner.”

There, the maniacal loud cackle finally bubbled out of her throat, rudely split tears in the corner of her eyes and reddened her makeup-free face. She apologized after that and fell in step next to Mr.Hart who reciprocated with her mirth by grinning in delight.

“I’m Harry.”

“I’m Gerry.” She snorted at their rhymed name, “but just call me Eggsy, please.”

 

It’s a corner café a couple blocks from station, to be more exact. Eggsy had been here once, when Jamie and Mark –Mycroft’s driver/muscle- treated her for an afternoon snack. However, at night the place gave different air, with the dimmed yellow light and the candle settled on table. There’s a jazz band playing on the corner stage which mostly vacant during daylight.

Harry was right when she doesn’t have to bother with dress code. Most people came here as couple on a date so they wore formal clothes, but then again, Harry was really own this place that the server greeted the man with polite familiarity and then led them to one of booth and gave them menu without even buggering Eggsy's choice of attire.

It wasn’t the same day-menu and for such reason Eggsy felt excited.

People who knew to stretch the potential of their space were the best designer she ever knew. Doesn’t mean to have grade in architecture or sorts to be a creative wonder, only needed the sense of awareness and fond love towards the building to do so. If people could love then they could dream and with dream came passion or ambition in which pushed the body and mind to create their own reality.

There were so many things she wanted to tell Harry, as the man did a great job with the lighting ambience and the jazzy songs, it really romantic for date without feeling bothered with awkward table manner. Of how intelligent this waitress – named Amelia – she almost sounded like a Lady when she expertly explained the chosen menu, as if she cooked it by herself. And they could have dessert as appetizer, or just ordering dessert instead three-course meal. This is a disaster for a fancy restaurant, but so far Eggsy loved it.

“Nice place.” In the end, Eggsy only chuckled as the waitress left.

Harry leaned his back, sitting with ease as he swept gaze around, “dinner supposed to be about comfort, after all-day tension we had at work.” He answered briefly as the matter of fact, before the brown haired man added somberly, “To tell the truth, I ate here almost every day.”

Well that’s explain why Harry hoped to be elsewhere tonight. She smiled at him, appreciated the honesty by lower her guard and, “I am craving for Spaghetti Carbonara with crispy _pancetta_.” She admitted with face gradually heated in embarrassment. Ah, now she acted just like her age after practicing for months to mature her speech and control her face.

“Ah, then you meet another fan of it.” Harry laughed. “Their butter sauce is really brilliant idea.”

“And the mixed parmesan with _perocino romano_ –as I find it in Google- worth like a fucking great orgy-…” Eggsy halted to slap herself mentally at the slip of rude words and mutters ruefully, “I’m a cheese whore… someday I’ll go conquer Italy and just ate cheese for the rest of my life.”

“I won’t doubt that.” Harry still continued to laugh, as if he had no problem with her hectic manner and unstable emotion. It relaxed Eggsy a bit, as the man averted into work topic. So Harry told her, he was worked at Saville Row, “but you are not a tailor.” She pointed jokingly.

“Then who am I supposed to be?” Harry broadened his shoulder as the man sat straighter and kept an open expression to allow her staring and threw her worst judgment. Eggsy grinned at the invitation. However, she wasn’t trained to observe people. She thought Harry might be a rich gentleman –or even noble- in his forties, unmarried but that doesn’t mean single, neat but not a perfectionist, still fit for his age and…

Eggsy scrunched her eyebrows, “you’re an actor, aren’t you?”

Harry burst into another laugh, but Eggsy didn’t hear any denial so she shrugged and continued, “I mean, there must be reason why you keep single and fit at your age. Most tailors I’ve met had this hunched posture for too long sitting in front of sewing machine, and they either married or in steady relationship.”

“Wow.” Harry cleared his throat as Amelia returned with the servings. But the man lost it with a snort and then cackled into another laugh, “you are amazing, my dear.”

Eggsy pouts just to reduce her proud smirk from being called as his _dear_ , “You don’t hear the worst of my hypothesis yet.” She grumbled, “But let’s save them for later,” because she was bloody hungry right now and glad to see Harry nodded in agreement.

 

“So I’m a secretary.” She told him, as they walked out the café and he asked what her occupation. “A bit too young, you’ll think. And despite my step-dad believed I’m sucking my way into my job, I prefer to think it as random luck.”

“I’m recruited into tailoring business around 16.” Harry said reassuringly, “I don’t remember sucking any cock, though.”

“Oh God, Harry!” Eggsy squealed, her palm grasped Harry’s sleeve and playfully shoved the older man, “you think I’ll still buy into that shit?! You are not a tailor!”

Harry caught her wrist and held her loosely; enough to smear her face with warmth and set her stomach fluttered with imaginary butterflies. “Well, if I’m an actor then I must be a very crappy one.” The man whispered fondly.

“Then you’re a spy!” Eggsy exclaimed, “like in movie. Your spectacles are one of those futuristic tech in which giving you X-ray sight –God, I’m worried if it’s real- and your umbrella was actually a disguised rifle –because who brings umbrella nowadays?- and your watch equipped with short circuit bomb-”

Harry cut her with a smooch, close-mouthed but long and feverish kiss. She moaned softly when they parted. Her eyes stared curiously at the man, while she also felt strong hand spooned on the small of her back.

“Just stop it.” Harry breathed. It hurt her, to think Harry would react differently to her antic just to find him despised it, like any men would. No one expected to be outsmarted, not from a young girl who supposed to _just_ be dense and pretty. “I’m about to come just by hearing your voice.” That’s why Eggsy stupefied when Harry continued his words between gritting teeth, “How could you make an oldman walked home with stain on his pants?”

Eggsy groaned mentally. Thanks Harry for wetting her panties with the said fantasy.

“Well, that’ll be a great sight.” Her voice quivered with desire, “though I can go home with you and take responsibility.”

Eggsy knew this was crazy. But she was also aware Mycroft had ears and eyes everywhere, if something bad happened to her, her boss will know and then decide whether to save her or sacrificed her for the greater good.

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow, thanks for the love, hope you enjoy the smut!

 

*

Like living in a dream, the cab ride back to Harry’s house fluttered her skin, as if she turned into a bloating neon bulb, warm at the surface and scorching hot on the inside. She could think or said none while sitting in the polite distance with Harry, too focused over the sudden attack of emotions surrounded her, drying her throat and hurt her stomach with joy.

Heh, she never felt _joy_ around human being before. Even around her mother, she smiled and laughed along just to make Mum worried less at her well being.

 _‘It’s okay, we don’t have to do this.’_ Harry talked through his eyes and the gentle touch on her palm, caressing her in reassurance. It tickled her with something more than _joy_ as she yanked her hand from his and boldly rested her palm on his lap, circling her thumb lazily near his crotch.

 _‘Don’t be afraid, oldman. I’ll be gentle with you.’_ She said slyly and then smiled to see Harry eyes glazed with cloud of desire.

“Little minx.” Harry grumbled under his breath and Eggsy burst into laugh.

 

To tell the truth, there are many things she expected to do with Harry, giving him hand or head, _snogged_ him until her lips bruised and chapped, shagged to nearest surface like a rag doll, or spanked with obedience kink which very popular nowadays, because Harry was just that beastly in her biased opinion.

 

“Strip.”

_The thing is_ , Harry wanted to have a slow burning sex which would make Eggsy felt it for days and Eggsy couldn’t decide if she should cringe or delighted with the prospect. She never really favored foreplay, because obviously it was a waste of time. She knew her body was built for pleasure so she didn’t constantly need dick to satisfy her tryst. She could be done by tonguing, fingering, even by simple groping in the right spot. Like now, staring at Harry through the bathroom mirror made her bladder felt so heavy, ready to explode.

“You’re really a spy, aren’t you?” She chuckled softly at the sight of his gun holster. Harry paused, but apparently made no fuss with her knowing, “Great, just like James Bond. Instead using his alias name to target, he pinned them with the famous, ‘Bond. James Bond’ then kissed them like no tomorrow to shut them up.” She gave him a sheepish look, “I like it.”

 

Harry unbuckled his belt and then undoing his pants, “James Bond?”

 

“Honesty.” She corrected him. “If women had a thing in unison then it’ll be for their men to never lie to them. Truth hurts, but it’s better than sweet lie-…” and it was just so good when Harry caught her bare waist, hovering behind her figure wearing nothing but his scattering scars. Eggsy shuddered at the attack of closeness, but just like in the cab, there’s no heated kiss or needy grinds involved.

It started to make her growled in frustration.

“Are we going to fuck or should I put it to my _next week_ schedule?” She looked up, daring him.

“Patience.” Harry whispered lowly. “I’m a gentleman, sweetheart. Quick romp ain’t my thing…” he said it while running his hand through her flat belly and down to cup her heat, “But I promise, when we’re done you will be wrecked to the bits.”

 

.

 

True to Harry words, hours later, her eyes opened drowsily to the blurry rain of morning light. She was sore, sated, satisfied…whatever it called to the swirl of emotions bloomed in her stomach and beating through her skin. Oh she couldn’t just stop the bloody details from streaming through her veins, of how Harry devoured her with the ridiculous amount of passion, straddling her with no fear of splitting her in half as if he knew her body was _that_ flexible or how his intense gaze never stop piercing at her face as he mounted her with both his weight and thick cock, let her watched it as his expression turned from restrain and worry into blissful and lost in ecstasy.

It was infuriating, how a man -who was supposed to be the definition of bastard, could make her feel thoroughly loved and prized. Harry gave Eggsy a different perspective and depth about sex. Before, sexual exploration remained to just satisfy her curiosity, no emotion attached. She didn’t do boyfriend, or having sentiment to save her first time to a special person. If that was she after, she won’t buy _dildo_ with Dean’s credit card a couple years back.

Now sex meant heaven.

 

Eggsy groaned at how pitiful she sounded. She better stopped thinking about sex before she regretted it why Harry wasn’t her first time or why she couldn’t just fuck Harry for the rest of her life. Because yeah, Eggsy never woke up to someone’s presence next to her, heartbeat content and smug smile permanently stayed on her face. She never passed out in the afterglow, hence having sex for three straight rounds in one night. She never shared a blanket, never had a reason to be snuggled and embraced, never got her limbs tangled in other’s limbs.

She never felt this dumb and numb because her creepy mind can’t stop thinking about many first times she got from Harry even though it was too sentimental and girly.

 

Eggsy sighed.

 

She whispered a soft greet into Harry’s ear and watched funnily as the man groaned while pulling her closer in childish possessiveness. That was cute, she thought. Never thought emotion could affect man with gentleness and mercy. It’s always about stupid pride and domination, as she knew from her step-dad and _his_ goons.

 

“I’ve had to go, Harry.” She whispered on Harry lips, just as her fingers rested on one of scars at the man’s shoulder. A spy, indeed, a voice in her head said but if Harry didn’t even care to deny, why she should bother with it? Eggsy bit the distorted skin, diligently made a mark before she kissed it dearly.

Eggsy preferred to leave when everything still sweet and dreamy, before reality crashed in with awkward encounter. Maybe Eggsy would feel sheepish for being so bold, or Harry would apologize for not being younger man.

 

“Good bye.”

 

.

 

‘Kingsman, Saville Row. Now.’

 

On Monday, Eggsy was just out from the tube when her cell notified with a text from Jamie. She immediately changed into her fancy clothes –today it was salmon pink blouse and dark brown pencil skirt- and bought a pair of black stilettos at nearby boutique because she could.

It was strange. Why Mycroft asked her to return to Kingsman? Something wrong happened? Wasn’t she ordered to not getting involved under any circumstance?

_‘I’m working at a tailor shop in Saville Row.’_

 

Eggsy paused with her hand resting on the door knob. She blinked in daze, taking a moment to adjust with the sudden attack of excitement. Space was the only thing pleased her while everything/everyone else cared less to her thinking and loathed her opinion. However today, this dearly heart had to go frantic and ecstatic because the shop wasn’t the only attractive _thing_ she would find here. There’s a man sitting in wait, as she stepped in with the sheepishness plastered all over her face.

There’s Harry, sipping into his morning tea in dark grey suit perfectly made to cling to his built. Forged into the surrounding, he looked like a part of still-life paintings, if not for his eyes glanced at her direction with the hints of fondness and passion. It made her cheeks heated with ticklish fury, because she couldn't help herself but fell in love at the soft morning light from the window put gleam on Harry well-combed hair. Or at the way long shadow loomed behind Harry, and how Harry’s legs slung one to another, exposing the shine from his polished oxford.

What once restricted from any living being now she didn’t mind if her love for space was now included Harry.

 

“Mr. Hart.” She greeted politely.

 

“Miss Eggsy.” Harry nodded, “would you like some tea?”

 

She approached him -smile still radiating on her face- before managed to stop at respectable distance. “No, thank you.” She breathed in, looking down at the hardwood floor in wonder if she was here for her boss order or by some illegal interception. “But I’d like some explanation, please.” She returned to smile at Harry, though she let an ice wall built in her gaze. There’s only a way to gain access into Jamie’s cell, by stealing it under Mycroft’s nose. She could think other less possible way, such as. “Do you sleep with Jamie too?”

Harry gave her a small smile, before the face returned into a stoic mask of gentleman, “jealous?” He taunted huskily.

Too late, Harry. The Ice already secluded a fortress around her, stabbed every hint of feeling from showing up on her skin and washed away the excitement from her mind. Oh yes, she was jealous, she was intrigued, but she lived through worse. “Do you want me to?” she asked again, low and humbly.

She could see startle in his gaze, before it returned calm and composed. She could almost hear him calling her name softly, pleadingly, as if it could melt the anxiety in her. She didn’t want to be less aware or worse, finding comfort around him. So Eggsy asked, “Why am I here?”

Harry didn’t answer. Instead, the man finished his tea and getting up with grace, smoothing the invisible crumple on the front of his coat before giving Eggsy a hand, “well then, let me show you.” Her mind screamed, tried to buy time to drain away all feelings he had planted in her and turned her cold and composed again. She could refuse the hand, but a cruel part in her brain reassured her frantic self to just ‘play along’ and ‘let’s see’ how this ended.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the story ends here, the next two chapters are the AU 'what if Eggsy refused Harry's offer to be Kingsman?'


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bizzare chapter  
> warning for bitter!Eggsy

 

Eggsy remembered once Mrs. Frederic found a copy of 'Dragon Ball' comic rested on her lap during classic reading and send her out to detention. She remembered the astonished –and the same time, disgusted- look she got from the rest of the math class when she explained about the beauty in cubism, three weeks later. She also remembered kissing Ronnie when she turns fifteen before she slapped him and kissed him even harder, like in those horny dramas.

She remembered being hit for using Dean credit card and shoved on the road for two days before she really allowed back home. She remembered her graduation day –youngest and _best_ graduate, skipping a year as she did so - Mum was on ‘honeymoon’ vacation with Dean so there are no congratulation and no pocket money. She had to mug people on street –because blowing posh bloke ain’t an option- just to survive the day.

She remembered meeting Mycroft, getting a job, and returning her medal to Kingsman Shop in Friday morning, yet she did’t have idea why she lied here - _somewhere_ , with her head spinning and her stomach cramped with awful nausea.

 

Eggsy woke up with sharp intake of breath.

 

“Oh God!” The blond haired whined, watery eyes blinking rapidly, voice stricken with panic as tried to clear out the dizziness and the distorting image of the blinding white light. She groaned again just when another stabbing pain gunning through her skull, popping veins and tremors all over her skin, swelling her face in red. Her eyes were still bleary as she tried to picture where she was. _In a room painted in white, on a crumpled, cheap bed._ She told her shaken self, _dressed thankfully, but high either from sedative or meth._

Unconsciously, her fingertips traced her neck where she found a small dot from injection. _Or a faint dart, possibly equipped with some amnesia induced drug._

Another ‘bang’ hammering into her head at her attempt to recall any memory. She arched her back, still groaning and whimpering in pain. Oh okay, she tried to relax her back and exercised her breathing to reduce the trembling – _just so she could think again_ \- but no, thinking meant she got curious why she didn’t remember and autonomously her brain will dig out of the _blank hole_ for any clue to her current state.

It wasn’t the most pleasant thing to do, fighting to get back her erased/locked memory. The process was including puking up all over the floor and wet the bed with her sweat, saliva and piss. It was very gross, she never felt so filthy in her life but it worth trying, because gradually, Eggsy _remembered_ saying goodbye to her boss, and then everything turned blank… oh wait. She changed her clothes and then betting on her luck to dine in at River’s Café…

_‘That’s unfair.’_

_‘That’s the manner.’_

 

Right, there’s the gentleman. The resurfacing of recent past hit her frontal hard and harsh with imaginary smack, quite in the same rhythm to her erratic heartbeat. It was so violent that she sobbed, with her back curled in ridiculous angle and fists clenched into the sheet, “stop…” she breathed out the words pleadingly, “please stop…” her tears running, drenched her face at every fond gaze addressed to her and every whisper calling her name.

 

Is Eggsy really her name?

 

The memory keep flashing back, what once popped as random slide shows, now they’ve got order, rendered in clearer vision. Suddenly she wasn’t only watching, she became the part of it. Eggsy could feel it, feel _him_ all over her, _inside_ her, moaning her name as they melted into a blissful sex.

 

“Harry…”

 

That’s his name, _that_ posh bastard.

 

Mum was right, after all.

 

“Eggsy?” Mum came, her voice is thick with worry, “hey, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” She felt familiar warmth surrounded her and she melted into Mum’s embrace, as the rest of unwanted memories flooded into her, snapping her with a firm note-to-self.

 

_‘I’m going to offer you a job as Kingsman agent.’ Harry said, after explained to her about everything. ‘Interested?’_

_Eggsy stared at the window where she could look down to a massive hangar full of vehicles and gadgets, before she smiled apologetically at him. ‘Nah, I’ve got a decent job already.’ She said, ‘and I’m sure my employer won’t take it easy with resignation paper.’_

_Harry smiled along with her, ‘too bad, then.’ And then everything faded into black._

 

Fuck you, Harry.

 

.

 

“You are _this_ close to be on the top list of my personal target hit.”

 

Eggsy was strolling at the park, that afternoon, ignoring the dulling sense and shame she got from having breakdown in her own bedroom. And the mattress needed thorough washing and drying so she couldn’t just stay inside and became the subject to Dean’s mock, _‘really, Mugsy? Getting high on work day?’_ because apparently that was the reason she was sent home by a ‘generous co-worker’. She wondered if it’s Harry, and she also wondered if Mum recognized Harry enough to kick the bastard in the balls.

Not that she hated Harry. She tried not to feel anything to him, not even bashing him because she wanted to stop thinking about him. Especially right now, when Eggsy spotted Mycroft did another round of boring chess match against himself.

Eggsy paused, eyes piercing at the older with her mind split in between greeting back or just ignoring the man. She moved closer, taking a seat across his and claiming another check-mate from his board, “yeah, good. Shoot me. It’ll stop my headache and your problem.” She muttered bitterly, “I’m just one of assets, right? Won’t even be missing me if I turn mad and living next to the trash bin.” She wasn’t sure she was talking this to Mycroft or _trashing_ about Harry to Mycroft. She just reset the board and then made her first move, before her eyes found the brownish grey orbs, stern with calculations, “your move, Sir.”

Mycroft eyed the board reluctantly, before he smiled sarcastically at her, “so you remembered everything.” She hoped she saw it wrong but there’s a flash of amusement –and proud, really?- from his gaze, before it all turned calm and smug again, “that’s why you looked so _wrecked_. Interesting.”

Eggsy snorted coldly. “That’s it? I’m having the worst day ever and that’s all you can say to me?” she knew she was being difficult and so teenage, but at the right moment, it was hard to think with her brain aching –might as well she lost partial of her frontal lobe due to explosion of feelings, yuck- and she didn’t want to make effort to play nice. Not to Mycroft. Not now.

Mycroft studied his nails, aware to the seething rage radiating from Eggsy and definitely enjoyed to watch her drowned in stupid _feelings_. “I’m here to give you a second chance.” He said, filling Eggsy with ticklish sensation and barked a mental cackle deep inside her scattered mind. _A fucking second chance_ , he offered, like her fate depended on Mycroft.

This man really enjoyed playing God.

Eggsy stared at Mycroft, part of her tempted to get up and leave, but of course the Sadist in her wanted to stay. Why he even bother asking while he knew she would accept it, anyway.

 

“I bet you’ve got addition to the rules.” She steadied her voice, slowed her breathing and sitting broad and straight, all feelings forced to disappear and a pitiful version of ‘Anthea’ tried to crawl out. It drew another smile out of Mycroft though Eggsy couldn’t really pinpoint if it was a genuine act or he’s just simply an asshole in every aspect of his life.

“Of course.” He rose from the seat and gestured her to follow, “You are hired as my full-time assistant now.” While behind him, Eggsy made a face of _‘wot? I’m not already is?’_ , the man continued with, “no need to return to your flat. Your mother already gave us your necessary item –just a keepsake box, apparently- while clothes and other essentials had been prepared in your new quarter.”

Eggsy halted, “wait.” She muttered in daze, “I’m going to live with you?” like 24 hours following Mycroft Holmes around? God, hell sounded nicer. “Where’s Jamie? Am I not sharing shift with him anymore?”

Mycroft stopped at the side road, where the car arrived and Mark walked out to open the back door for the man. “Strange girl.” The man gave her knowing look, “Who is Jamie?”

Cold shudder ran through her back, as she watched her boss leisurely climbed into his seat. In autopilot, she entered behind him chanted bless for her ‘second chance’, hopefully she wouldn’t end to be _forgotten_ like Jamie.

 

*

 

 

/pp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was it?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so I've been converse in ch.2 comments about the possibility for plot twist and so that's where the ch.3 come from  
> now for them who wants some 'reconciliation' between hartwin, hopefully you enjoy this short epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for barebacking

*

 

Later on, When Eggsy had dinner with Mycroft at the said man's home, the man began explaining about Kingsman to her. Said that Kingsman agents were very loyal to their ethic code and they were trained to never take anything personally. That was why they made best field agents and deadly assassins.

“Erasing your memory is the part of standard procedure. I hope you stop being so bitter about it.”

Eggsy looked up from staring at her cell and eyeing Mycroft with curiosity, “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, “I thought I shouldn’t be involved.”

“Things are changed, Anthea.” His voice is full of anticipation and mischief. “You’re already involved, like it or not. Best we equipped you with some informations about them, rather than sending you out to _battlefield_ naked and baffled like before.”

Shame spread its color on Eggsy face, shortening her breath and squaring her jaw. “It’s a ‘one night stand’.” She said between gritted teeth, “I’m not using my body to seduce him for intel.” _It’s so Bond movie_ , she thought and groaned under her breath at the exciting beat in her heartbeat.

“Of course I know you won’t.” Mycroft said calmly while sipping into his drink. “I also know that sooner or later, you’ll see him again, obviously.” When Eggsy silently snarled with _‘I don’t think so’_ , Mycroft grinned in amusement, “Face it. He’s attached to you and these kinds of secret agents are all stubborn and persistent individuals so don’t be surprised if he staged another meeting with you.”

 

.

 

A few weeks wouldn’t be enough to heal a broken heart –if there’s any _heart_ to mend in the first place. Of course, Eggsy tried to be mature by ignoring everything and focused on her duty instead. It was a waste to mope the absence of Harry and longing for stupid future with Harry, while she was sure the man would never let their path crossed again in this lifetime.

 

“Hello again.”

 

Until now.

 

Eggsy stilled on her heels at the sight of Harry Hart entered the same Italian restaurant and falling in step next to her. She shuddered slightly at the way he slipped his arm around her slim back and the way his scent and warmth pressed to her side as he chatted to the reception, asking ‘table for two’. She didn’t get it. If their status reduced from random fling into _total stranger_ , he shouldn’t just getting familiarized with her, right? It's not what gentleman did.

Eggsy held her breath. She was tempted to elbow him and then walked away. But no, she arrived here first and she wouldn’t leave without stuffing her stomach with Carbonara.

So Eggsy decided to play along.

 

They were escorted to their seat, Eggsy tried to distract herself by looking around the large dining area, stocked with people dressed to the nines. But then she could only ignore Harry for so long before the man said, “I’m sorry.”

 _No, no no no, heart, I command you to stop melting._ Eggsy cleared her throat, tried her best to build the ice fortress around her, because this _is_ Harry who preferred to shot her with amnesia dart rather than trusting her keeping a secret. Eggsy wanted to play it hard and fierce, but then again it was useless. She let him touched her before and led her to sit within the intimacy of curved booth. All for the bloody pasta, mind you, not because she missed him _dearly_.

Right, maybe she missed him a bit to endure staying in the same lot with him. Affection is really strange thing to experience. “It feels like a long time ago –over a month, maybe- since I’ve had any spaghetti carbonara, so I’m going to have it tonight, no matter what happens.”

She hoped it stopped Harry from talking about the past.

“You remembered everything, don’t you?” Harry guessed softly, “and remembrance is hurt. I don’t know how much pain you’ve got but if you could go to me or at least hate me for hurting you, I won’t be here today. I will stop buggering your life.”

 

Eggsy pursed her lips. “Will you, really?” she muttered, “Ain’t you here because you can’t stop caring for me?”

 

There’s sheepish smile quirked on Harry’s face. It softened his expression and cracked his gentleman mask. Eggsy could see the pour of emotions into the face. Guilt, shame, remorse, fondness, love… he probably loved her because love tended to turn people into contradiction. He wanted her, but she didn’t want to be the part of his life and that’s left him with hard choice, to forget about her entirely or to leave everything else for her.

“Yes.” Harry stared at her, piercing and intent but radiated with a mix of joyous emotions. It almost made her laugh in reminder of sensitive and genuine Harry she met weeks ago. “I want to say love, but even now I don’t understand it to boldly tell _‘I’m in love with you.’_ ” He touched her palm again and she let him be. “It’ll sound so vague.” He admitted.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” Eggsy let their fingers entwined, “the only feeling I have for you is when you’re inside me, causing endorphin to spill all over my brain and turned me into pervert.” A smile finally tore her face apart when she felt his grasp on her palm tightened and he frowned at her, scandalized with her words.

 

“So…” he trailed his words, hesitating as he began a conclusion, “We don’t have heart and we don’t understand love,” however then there’s this content-ness seeping in between them, drawing Eggsy smile wider and Harry’s cheeks bubbled in faint red, “but I want to wake up in the morning and find you there for me.”

Eggsy giggled. God, it can be a sweet marriage proposal if he aimed for another woman.

“As long as I wake up _remembering_ ,” She squeezed his palm, silently told he was forgiven if he stopped being a bastard, “I think tomorrow morning you’ll see me making a mess in your kitchen.”

“Not before I wrecked you _again_ , tonight.” Harry voiced out his promise while scooted close and pressed  _closer_ to her side, enjoying the exclusive view of her mischievous gaze and twisted grin, “my little minx.”

 

.

 

End

 

.

 

Eggsy laughed.

Here she lied on her back, half of her upper body propped by elbows as she looked at the sight in between her legs. There’s Harry cursed loudly and there’s the condom, ripped and uselessly settled at the base of his cock, clumsily spilling _everything_ all the way into her passage.

“Eggsy, darling it’s not funny.” Harry frowned.

“God, Harry no that’s arousing.” Eggsy slammed her back to the crumpled sheet, cackled to the ceiling as her entire body shuddering with joy, “I’ve never…” she ran her hand to touch her sensitive heat, feeling the slick and squelching sensation filling deep in her, “Oh…”

“Stop fingering yourself.”

“It’s okay, Harry.” She said, “I’m clean. Wait, are you clean?”

“Of course.” Harry scoffed, still get disturbed with the stupid fail condom as he got up to toss it into the bin. “Let’s get _another_ shower.” He suggested, helping Eggsy to sit and then carried her to the adjoining bathroom.

“You’re the first man ever shoot in me.” Eggsy said in daze.

“How many men you plan to bare-backing?” Harry asked with annoyance thick in his voice.

“My, aren’t you jealous?” Eggsy kissed him, “then let’s do it again to make sure it’s your only privilege.”

Harry grumbled into her lips, "Cheeky brat." but there's no rejection to her offer, only a gentle touch loosely hugged her as together they entered the shower.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy writing this story, and I'm so thankful building the plot with your great comments aaa  
> thanks for the love everyone!


End file.
